


like a daydream or a fever

by kawuli



Series: Antennas to heaven [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Genderqueer Character, Other, Sex worker OFC, gender is for humans, what even is gender??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawuli/pseuds/kawuli
Summary: Peta had always avoided Novigrad. Not enough contracts, too many people, and too many hazy memories she had no desire to bring out into the light. Better to just stay away.But now she'd just finished a job nearby and had gotten paid well enough for it to justify a hot meal, a few pints of ale, and a bed in an inn. And anyway, she was curious.In which young witcher Peta finds both bad memories and good possibilities
Relationships: OFC/O???C
Series: Antennas to heaven [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695328
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	like a daydream or a fever

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably make more sense if you've read [lift your skinny fists like antennas to heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567801/chapters/53929639), but the tl;dr is that Peta was a little girl Geralt found on the streets in Novigrad and brought to Kaer Morhen without realizing she wasn't a little boy. She grew up into a non-binary witcher and went out on the Path. (If Peta was asked, she'd say her gender is "wtf even is gender anyway", and I handwave the Trials of the Grasses as puberty blockers/hormones. POV pronouns are she/her, but she usually presents as male for convenience and is fine with male pronouns as well.)
> 
> This happens a year or two after she leaves Kaer Morhen.

Novigrad.

Peta had always avoided the place. Not enough contracts, too many people, and too many hazy memories she had no desire to bring out into the light. Better to just stay away.

But now she'd just finished a job nearby and had gotten paid well enough for it to justify a hot meal, a few pints of ale, and a bed in an inn. And she was curious. 

So she left her horse at a stable and walked across the bridge and into the city. It was odd: she knew without thinking about it how to find her way through the muddy streets and down to the docks, but the city didn't _feel_ familiar. Why would it? It was--Peta thought for a minute--fourteen years since she'd left here with Geralt for Kaer Morhen. This certainly wasn't her home anymore.

Peta found the sign for the Golden Sturgeon, pushed the door open and stepped inside, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. It was late afternoon, and the place was half-full, the same mix of drunks, merchants and seamen she'd see at any portside tavern. Same smells of sour beer, fish, unwashed bodies and salt air.

A short conversation with the innkeeper got her a room, a washbasin, and a pitcher of ale, with a promise of food to come soon. The room was tiny, one narrow bed and a little table, no chairs. Peta stripped out of her armor, stacked her things in a corner, and set about using the basin and washcloth to clean herself up. As she was tying the laces on her spare trousers, a knock on the door and the smell of beef stew announced her meal. A young girl brought in a tray, left it on the table, and scurried back out, all without looking at Peta.

Peta sighed, sat on the bed, and ate. The food was good--much better than anything she could prepare over a fire. The ale wasn't bad either. She refilled her mug as she was setting the empty plate back on the table, then went to her pack to find whetstone and oilcloth for cleaning her swords. It was a good way to keep her hands busy while she tried to relax, and the sound would mask the voices from below, enough that she wouldn't keep trying to follow three conversations at once.

So she sat with her back to the wall, drinking her ale and listening to the ringing sound of stone on silver and steel.

She finished her task, and her ale, as dark began to fall. Looking out the grimy window, Peta felt uneasy. She couldn't sit still, and since she could cross the length of the room in three paces, if she was going to move she needed to go out.

Peta sighed. Outside, in the Novigrad docks, after dark. Better put her armor back on, and bring her swords.

She wasn't headed in any particular direction, but after wandering for a while, she found herself back at the docks, descending a rickety stairway. There was a walkway, just above the waterline, green and slick. She was picking her way along, left hand trailing along the rough stone wall, when the wall stopped. A tunnel led back into the city, into Novigrad's warren of sewers.

Peta stepped into the tunnel. It felt strangely cramped, like she would knock her head on the ceiling, but no, there was perhaps a foot of space above her. She took a few more steps, and then stopped. There was a pathetic little collection of sacks, a few threadbare blankets, and suddenly the place was entirely too familiar. She'd slept here, one of a ragged little gang of kids like her--alone in the city, banding together to watch each others' backs.

Peta shook her head to clear it, then looked around more carefully--pushing aside the child's-eye-view and looking as an adult. As a witcher. It was late by now, probably past midnight. Where were the kids these things belonged to? It might not be much, but Peta remembered well enough what a treasure a blanket without too many holes could be.

And then she heard it. Drowners, further in. Peta unsheathed her silver sword and crept forward. She felt in a belt pouch for a vial of Cat potion, tossed it back, and paused until the wave of nausea and dizziness passed and her view brightened. The drowners weren't far away, she could smell them, and soon she stepped around a corner and saw them, too. They saw her at the same time, and four of the creatures swarmed toward her, screaming. A blast of Igni and a bit of sword work took care of them, giving Peta a chance to look around the little dead-end side tunnel that was their lair.

Her breath hissed through her teeth when she saw the bodies. Half-eaten, mostly-decomposed, and very small. That was always the fear, she remembered. You wanted to get far enough into the tunnel to stay warm, but not so far in the drowners would get you. Winter was approaching, the nights were getting colder, and these kids had gone too far in.

If Geralt hadn't stolen her, if he'd realized she was a girl and left her here, if she'd let them kick her out of Kaer Morhen, she would have ended up just like these kids.

Well, now she was a witcher, and if she'd been too late to save these kids, she could at least clear out the tunnels to save the next group.

It was easy to lose track of time, stalking monsters underground. Easier with a few potions to keep her night vision, to keep her quick and alert. Until the toxicity built up, the potions began to wear off, and Peta found herself struggling to finish off the last drowner between her and a way back out to the docks.

She was bleeding, filthy, exhausted, and when she staggered out, the light nearly blinded her, adding to the pounding headache she already had from some combination of hunger, dehydration and exhaustion.

So much for a relaxing night in a clean bed. Peta almost laughed, leaning against the stone wall to catch her breath. Finally she started up the stairs, pulling herself along the railing as a bloody gash in her leg made her clumsy.

She'd just about made it to the top of the stairs when someone rushed over. Peta tried to stand, reached for her belt knife since she wouldn't be quick enough for a sword, and then some combination of senses made her realize this wasn't an attack. It was a woman, and she pulled Peta's arm over her shoulder and half-carried her into a dark room smelling of beer and... other things.

The woman sat Peta in a chair, said something, and disappeared. Before Peta's sluggish brain could process what she'd said, the woman was back, with clean cloth, a pitcher of water, and a big, brawny man who half-carried her up a flight of stairs and into a room.

"Just leave him on the bed," the girl said. "I'll take care of him from there."

Peta lay on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Her vision was clearing, and she pushed herself up to sit against the wall. The woman handed her a mug--water. Peta drank it greedily, and the girl reached to refill it.

"So," she said. "It's been a while since I had a witcher in my bed."

Peta frowned. Then she looked around, at the bed, the room, the woman, and her eyes widened as she realized where she was.

The woman laughed. "Don't act so shocked," she says, "everyone knows about witchers. Kate had one in just the other day."

"I'm just-- I didn't realize," Peta said.

"Ah, so you do talk," the woman said. "Come on, get your trousers off, and I'll help you clean that gash in your leg."

Peta considered running away instead, but she was tired, and she did need to clean her leg, and it wasn't like it mattered if a Novigrad whore found out what was in her pants. So she sighed, began untying laces, pulling off her boots, while the woman poured water into a basin. "I'm Maggie," she said. "What's your name?"

"Peta." Peta shifted, wriggling out of her trousers. "And uh..."

Maggie looked over, raised one eyebrow. Then she looked down, and the second eyebrow joined the first. "I didn't know girls could be witchers," she said, coming over and sitting on the edge of the bed. She didn't comment beyond that, just started washing dirt away from the wound.

"They can't, usually," Peta said, relieved. "I-- it's easier to let people think I'm a man."

Maggie laughed, glancing up toward Peta's face. "Ain't that the truth," she said. "You'd 'ave fooled me, if your trousers'd stayed on. I mean, I've seen women in armor, but they're always wearing, well, _women's_ armor."

Peta bit her lip. She didn't quite know what to say to that. It was easier not to think about it, to let "man" and "woman" be categories for humans, and since she wasn't quite human, they didn't quite apply. She wasn't sure how to explain that to someone else, though, especially someone who wasn't a witcher.

Maggie didn't seem perturbed by her silence. She wrapped a clean bandage around Peta's leg and looked up. "You look better," she said. "A little more color in your face."

"Potions're wearing off," Peta said. "I'll be fine."

"Where are you staying?"

"At the Sturgeon. I can walk over there, just give me a minute to get dressed."

Maggie looked at her, head tipped to the side. "You sure?" she asked. "Stay and rest a bit. Let me get you something to eat."

"I can't let you--"

"Bollocks," Maggie said. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

Peta's stomach grumbled loudly when she smelled the food. Maggie handed her a plate--half a chicken, roasted, with carrots and little round turnips arranged like --

Peta burst out laughing. "Do you do this for all your customers?" she asked.

Maggie grinned. "Nah, most of 'em have their own."

"What do I owe you?" Peta asked, when she was setting down the last of the chicken bones, picked clean. "I don't know how much your time's usually worth--" She stopped, not sure if she'd accidentally insulted the woman, but Maggie didn't seem bothered.

"Ha! Well, depends what I'm doing with my time."

Peta wasn't sure where to look.

Maggie looked at her more closely. "You haven't been to a brothel before, have you?" she asked.

"I-- no, I mean... why would I, since..."

"Oh, honey," Maggie said, grinning like Dobromil about to knock an angry drunk on his ass, "you should come back once you're healed up a bit. You don't need a dick to enjoy a woman."

Peta blinked. She was exhausted, still half-drunk on potions and very confused, but also, suddenly, extremely interested. "I... might do that," she said.

Maggie grinned, handed Peta her trousers. "Go on, get some rest," she said, and winked. "You can settle up next time."

Peta felt suddenly clumsy, fumbling to lace up her trousers. Maggie batted Peta's hands away, knelt down and did it herself, glancing up through her lashes at Peta as she finished. Maggie's eyes were brilliant blue, black curls falling over bare shoulders exposed by her low-cut dress.

"...thanks," Peta said, as Maggie climbed slowly to her feet, watching Peta as she did.

"Come back soon," Maggie said, and she reached up to tuck a stray hair behind Peta's ear. Her hands were warm, and very soft.

"I will," Peta replied, and left, hoping it didn't look too much like she was fleeing.

\--

Peta was annoying herself.

She was going to go see Maggie--she was! She had been _invited_ , and she wanted to, and she had long since lost track of how many monsters she'd killed so she wasn't going to scare herself out of _going to see a girl_.

It's just that... Peta's never known quite how to talk to girls. Not as herself. She's talked to innkeepers and farm women and the occasional minor noble, but that's always for a contract, always Peta-the-presumably-male-witcher here to solve a problem.

And all the witchers she knows are men, and Peta doesn't have to think about how to act around them, they're all the same kind of crazy she is, they _make sense_.

Witchers talk about women like they're a different species, beautiful and desirable and occasionally dangerous. She's heard enough idle bragging from drunk friends to have a pretty good idea how a man fucks a woman--or how a man fucks another man, though she'd picked up on that in Kaer Morhen. But it always sounded... Well, the way they talked about it, it was hard to imagine how she'd fit into the picture. Certainly not as the seductive woman in elaborately fitted dresses, and men just... didn't seem like they'd be worth the trouble of pretending to be a woman that way. Women, maybe -- she'd seen a few women pretty enough to catch her eye, but what was she going to do? Proposition them the way witchers tended to, blunt and to the point, and then have to explain that actually, she didn't have the expected equipment?

So Peta just figured all of that didn't really apply to her, and didn't think much about it.

Until yesterday. Maggie already knew what Peta was, had guessed just how much she didn't know what the hell she was doing, and still invited her back. And sure, Maggie was ...this was her job, maybe, but still, Peta was intrigued. More than intrigued.

Which was why she was pacing her tiny room in her smallclothes and trying to figure out what to _wear_ to go to a tavern to see a girl.

It wasn't like she had any actually decent clothes, by most standards, for either gender, so in the end she just found a clean shirt, trousers, and gambeson, left leathers and mail and swords behind, pulled on her boots and strode out before she could convince herself not to.

The summer sun had just set, the breeze off the water was cool, and Peta breathed deep, trying to release the tension humming through all of her muscles. It took only a few minutes to get to Crippled Kate's, as everyone called it. Peta rather wished it had been a longer walk, but walking circles around the docks was not only ridiculous it was dangerous, so she pushed open the door and walked in.

The room was warm and dim, smelled of spilled beer and something cooking. No music, just the buzz of conversations at scarred tables, women moving gracefully through the crowded space with mugs and pitchers of ale.

Maggie was leaning against the bar, her hair spilling down her back, laughing with the woman behind the counter. When Peta walked over, Maggie looked her up and down, smiled.

"Ah, and here's my witcher," Maggie said to the other woman. "Better get me a pitcher and a couple of mugs to take upstairs." With that, she shot Peta a look that ...well, Peta's breath caught for a long moment as their eyes met. The other woman came back, and Maggie hooked the mugs with one hand and took the pitcher with the other, nodding toward the stairs at the back.

Peta felt like the whole room was staring after them as she followed Maggie, but a quick glance told her she was wrong--no one was paying any attention to her, and if a few were watching Maggie, well, who wouldn't?

They went into the same room as before. Peta sat on the edge of the bed, hands between her knees. Maggie set things down on a corner table, then walked back to close the door and latch it.

Then she looked at Peta, and chuckled. "You're nervous!" she said, delighted. "Last time you were here you'd been off fighting drowners, were covered in gods-know-what, bleeding and half out of your head, and you weren't the least bit worried about _that_ , but now you look like you want to run away."

Peta looked down, feeling her cheeks flush hot. "It wasn't that bad," she mumbled, knowing that wasn't the point.

Maggie sighed, poured them drinks, and came to sit beside Peta, leaving a handspan of space between them. "If you want to go, I'm not stopping you," she said quietly.

"No! I--" Peta bit her lip. That had come out sharper than she meant. "I don't-- I don't know what to do," she added.

Maggie reached a hand to Peta's cheek, and Peta let herself be turned, raised her eyes to meet Maggie's. Maggie was smiling. Her hand reached up to push Peta's short hair away from her face, and Peta felt herself leaning into the touch like a cat, her eyes closing.

"You don't have to know anything," Maggie said. "All you gotta do is tell me if I do something you don't like." Peta opened her eyes, and Maggie winked. "Or if there's something you _do_ like, of course."

Peta took a deep breath, let it out, and nodded. "Alright," she said. "I can do that."

Maggie nodded, shifted closer. Her hand dropped to Peta's shoulder. "Kiss me?" she asked.

Peta took a breath, leaned down to meet Maggie's lips. She felt clumsy, uncertain at first, but as she let her lips soften, Maggie's tongue slipped between them, tracing Peta's upper lip and then pulling back. Peta sucked in a breath, inhaling Maggie's scent--human smells of skin and sweat, soap, traces of something floral. Peta pulled back, shifted, reached to brush Maggie's hair back. Her fingers tangled, and before she could disengage, Maggie's hand reached up, guiding Peta's to the back of her head, pulling them closer. Peta's fingers closed, and Maggie made a soft noise as she stretched up to kiss Peta again.

Peta forgot about feeling nervous. A little later, Maggie pulled away and then reached for the laces at the sides of Peta's gambeson, loosening them. Peta swallowed hard, pulled it up over her head and dropped it behind her. Maggie's hands went to Peta's waist, stroking up her side, around to her back under her shirt.

"Hmmm," Maggie hummed, sounding pleased. "You are strong, aren't you."

Peta wasn't sure what to say to that, but let her hand trace the curve of Maggie's bodice, down her side to where the stiff fabric stopped and she could feel the soft curve of her hips. "My turn, is it?" Maggie smiled.

Peta, still tongue-tied, nodded. "Untie me?" Maggie asked, turning so that her back faced Peta. Peta loosened the laces, and Maggie pulled her shirt and stays over her head and turned back to Peta.

Peta's mouth went dry. Maggie stepped close, and Peta's hands traced the curve from waist to hip, then back up. Maggie smiled. "C'mon now, don't be shy," she said.

Peta bit her lip. "I... I don't know what to do?"

Maggie chuckled, warm and low. "Alright then, I'll show you. Get the rest of your clothes off and lie down on the bed."

Peta swallowed hard. "All of them?" she asked. Her voice sounded high and young in her own ears.

"Hey," Maggie said, putting a hand to Peta's arm. "Just... whatever you're comfortable with."

Peta nodded, took a breath, and turned around. She shed her trousers, her shirt, but left her drawers on. When she climbed onto the bed and turned around, Maggie was at the foot of the bed, kneeling back on her heels, and without a stitch on.

Peta forgot to be embarrassed, let Maggie direct her until she was leaning against the headboard. Maggie straddled Peta's hips and looked down, watching Peta's reaction. "Good?" she asked.

Peta nodded, unsure of her voice. Maggie tangled her fingers with Peta's, brought Peta's hand to rest on the curve of her breast, then let go. Peta cupped its weight in her palm, traced the curve of it lightly with her fingers, learning the shape. Maggie raised one hand to Peta's own nearly flat chest, brushed a thumb over one of Peta's nipples. Peta drew in a sharp breath.

Maggie leaned forward to kiss Peta again. "You don't have to be so careful," she said, laughter behind the words. "I've never met a witcher who was shy in bed before."

Peta ducked her head. "I'm not--"

"Shh" Maggie said, putting a finger to Peta's lips. "Just... relax a bit." She shifted to the side, traced the line of Peta's drawers, then slid her fingers under them. She looked back up at Peta, lifted an eyebrow, and Peta nodded yes. Maggie's fingers slid further down, and Peta made a small sound.

"There," Maggie whispered, as Peta gasped and tipped her head back, "I got you."

Peta let herself forget the awkwardness, the uncertainty, and just focused on the sensations, as Maggie teased her, teased her, before finally bringing Peta to a climax that swept through her like a wave, leaving her breathless.

Then Maggie was straddling her again, kissing her, and Peta pushed forward hungrily. She glanced to one side, judging the space, and then shifted, lifting her hips and twisting to let Maggie flip onto her back, flat on the mattress. Blue eyes, the kohl lining them a little smudged, flushed cheeks, hair wild, the soft curves of her body outlined against the sheets. Peta shifted, propped herself on one elbow, and with the other hand reached down. Peta only knew what felt good when she touched herself, which seemed crude compared to what Maggie had done, but she watched Maggie's face as her fingers moved, felt her body react, and she guessed she did alright.

Maggie turned onto her side, traced fingers down Peta's jaw, smiling. "There now," she said fondly, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Peta laughed weakly. "No! It was... it was really good." That sounded stupid, but she didn't care. She felt half-drunk, loose-limbed and sleepy, and didn't really want to move. She wasn't sure, though, what was supposed to happen next, so she moved to sit. "Should I--" she started, but Maggie shook her head.

"Rest here a bit," Maggie said. "There's no rush."

* * *

Peta woke as the first grey dawn light was creeping in through the curtains. Maggie was asleep next to her, curled on her side with the blankets drawn up.

Peta had barely moved, but Maggie awoke as though she'd felt Peta's gaze, turned and smiled sleepily. "Awake already?" she asked.

Peta nodded. "I should-- I should go," she said. "What do I owe you?"

Maggie propped herself up on one elbow. "Kate takes ten for the room," she said. "Beyond that, don't worry about it."

Peta nodded absently, found her trousers and the coin pouch on her belt. She counted out twenty crowns and handed them over.

"Thank you," she said. "Really. It was... amazing."

Maggie frowned down at the coins, looked back up at Peta, who met her eyes steadily. "Alright," Maggie said, sitting up to run soft fingers along Peta's jaw again. "Come back and see me, yeah?"

Peta felt her cheeks flush at that. "Yeah," she said, "Yeah, I will."

With that, Maggie smiled, set the coins on a little table on the far side of the bed, and lay back down, her eyes drifting shut.

Peta shook her head, pulling herself together. She stood up, dressed, and slipped quietly out of the silent tavern and into the Novigrad morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Much like Peta, I annoyed myself with how nervous I was about posting this. 
> 
> There will probably be more Peta, it will probably skip around in story-chronology. Series order will be story-chronological, not posting-chronological.


End file.
